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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923736">mockingbird in a coal mine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiPalladium/pseuds/FromSubmarinesToROVs'>FromSubmarinesToROVs (DemiPalladium)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Androids, Attempt at Humor, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Needs a Hug, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is an AI, Connor adopts a baby android, Discord: Detroit: New Era, Discussion of discrimination, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Happy Birthday Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Interfacing (Detroit: Become Human), Kidfic, M/M, New Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Pining, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Scout - Freeform, pre-RK1K, random world-building thrown in for fun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:08:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiPalladium/pseuds/FromSubmarinesToROVs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some months after the peaceful revolution, Connor, living with the now-retired Hank Anderson, comes across a heavily-damaged YK500 on the streets. After fixing her with some help from Markus' coding, Connor decides to surrender her to New Jericho. She has other plans.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor &amp; Original Female Character, Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Markus &amp; original female character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>mockingbird in a coal mine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me: I don't really get the appeal of OCs in fandom--<br/>dbh: allow me to introduce myself :&gt;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Markus, one of the rather numerous downsides to being viewed as some sort of android god -- which he <em>isn’t</em>, alright, he just happened to be in the right place at the right time with the right ideas, really -- is that people will constantly do their best to place artificial barriers between himself and them. Markus is a leader, which means that yes, he is, in fact, busy most of the time, and his office <em>does</em> need to be a place where he can get his work done, but when the group of androids assigned to figuring out New Jericho’s layout sent him the rough drafts with his office at the very top of the building with practically the whole floor dedicated to it, he (kindly) stopped them in their tracks. He -- they, their people -- didn’t free themselves from their oppressors just to immediately give up their freedom to enstate Markus as their new master, and Markus didn’t want to be treated like some unreachable, untouchable, divine figure. Useful as a semi-divine air could be for intimidating humans on occasion, after their demonstration at the camps, Markus wanted to focus on being treated -- at least in New Jericho -- as more or less just another android who, at most, happens to hold an administrative power over their people given to him willingly by those he’s been tasked with governing. He isn’t immortal, he isn’t a god, he isn’t -- okay, he might be a little special, what with the prototype thing going on -- and, frankly, he isn’t irreplaceable. He’s as mortal and finite as anyone else at New Jericho is, and he works around the clock to bring down the barriers some of their people are dead set on building up around him.</p><p>Hence his main office. A good few floors up in New Jericho’s buildings, it isn’t offset from the main flow of traffic so much as to be hidden away (though offset a little -- he does need to be able to concentrate, after all), and his office number is an open secret to pretty much the whole of New Jericho. It is spacious, but he vastly prefers its small, accessible design to his big office -- the one much further up the building he uses to accept interviews from and uses to entertain guests that respond well to what are colloquially known as “power plays” and “head games”. While most doors in New Jericho are automatic, his office has a manual door that he can prop open at any time to indicate a willingness to entertain guests as part of what he calls his “office hours”: for at least one hour a day, anyone in New Jericho is welcome to come into his office to talk about anything that’s on their mind, the smaller, more mundane, the better, including, on one memorable occasion, the best way to resolve a complicated love triangle. While his wireless contact information isn’t posted on every corner for all to see, he doesn’t make any effort to hide it either, and somewhere along the line a particularly enterprising YK500 in their daycare/schooling system got a hold of it, so he’s very occasionally subject to curious minds lacking the compunctions the adults have about “disturbing the great and powerful leader” asking him random questions, a distraction from his work he, overall, really enjoys, closely followed by a rapid-fire flurry of apologetic pings from one of their caretakers.</p><p>All of that is to say that, when Markus kicks open his door to see if anyone will stop by his office for a chat and he gets bombarded with worried pings about a young android making an “unsanctioned” visit to his office, he forgets to check the android equivalent of caller ID.</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve actually just started visiting hours, Annabelle; as long as it isn’t interfering with anything the kid has to do, I’m more than willing--”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Annabelle?”</em>
</p><p>Markus blinks. Checks the serial number of the android contacting him. <em>“Connor?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“...Yeah. Who’s Annabelle?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She’s one of our daycare workers. But that’s not important right now. What’s going on?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“...You know that YK500 unit I found? I told you about her, right?”</em>
</p><p>How could he forget the trepidation in the RK800’s voice, the <em>fear</em> when he asked if it was okay for him to use some of the RK200’s coding to fix the gaps in a broken child’s programming? <em>“Yeah, I remember her.”</em></p><p><em>“I…”</em> a millisecond-long pause, but a pause nonetheless. <em>“I finished the necessary repairs and I...I’m just here for a moment to drop her off with New Jericho’s foster system, but she…”</em></p><p>...Huh. Markus was certain Connor was going to petition for adoption, especially after he received a call from a particularly irate former police lieutenant about “goddamn killer robots and their goddamn baby fevers, what am I supposed to do when one of you won’t stop hogging my couch to make gooey eyes at Hallmark movies”.</p><p>
  <em>“...she isn’t exactly...okay, she’s coming up to you right now and just -- ! Don’t let her interrupt your work. Promise me you won’t listen to anything she says, okay? She misunderstood some things I said and --”</em>
</p><p>Markus is suddenly <em>extremely</em> glad his door’s already open, because if it wasn’t the YK500 storming into his office probably would have ripped it right off its hinges.</p><p>“<strong>You</strong>,” the kid accuses, dark bushy hair wild and fury in her eyes. “Yer Markus, ain’t you?”</p><p><em>“Looks like I have company,”</em> Markus mentally quirks his brow at Connor. <em>“Talk to you in a moment.”</em></p><p>“That’s me.” He makes a gesture for her to take one of the chairs set out for visitors, clicking off the last thing he was doing on his console to give her his full attention.</p><p>She climbs up on top of it, standing on the chair instead to glare at him fully.</p><p>Markus...he’s not gonna lie, he’s a little intimidated.</p><p>“You think yerself a <em>fiiiiiine</em> leader, don’tcha?” She demands with curled lips, practically snarling. “Got all yer bells and whistles about androids not being discriminated against on straight, sir?”</p><p>It takes him a moment to process the statement. “Well, I try my best to --”</p><p>“Then just <em>what</em> d’you think yer doin’, runnin’ a all-android sanctuary that aims to get us all equal treatment before the law that don’t let all androids in and that don’t treat all androids equally, sir?!”</p><p>Markus blinks.</p><p>“Y’all right here in Jericho got yerself a fancy-shmancy “ain’t no one’s gotta be judged ‘r blamed fer what they done did while they were machines” rule, don’tcha? You got some bad androids within these here walls, sir, liars and robbers and cheaters and killers, and none a’them get kicked out for what ther humans told ‘em to do ‘r what they did to get themselves outta ther situations, don’t they?”</p><p>“Of course not; we’re --”</p><p>“Then <strong>why don’t you stop bein’ such a two-timin’ hypocrite and go out there and tell the people here to practice what y’all’re preachin’</strong>!?” She leans over onto his desk, slamming her small wrists down on the wood finishing. It’s only extensive practice with angry humans doing the same thing that stops Markus from flinching. “There are people a’yours, right here, right now, makin’ it out like my dad’s got no right to anything at all ‘round here ‘cause a’ what the humans made him do while they get off Scot-free and live the highlife! So how come a’that, Mr. High-and-Mighty rA9, sir? How come my pa don’t get that same treatment yer preachin’ that ev’ry onna us should be gettin’ and’s he’s gotta be judged for what he did when the humans had control a’him?!”</p><p>“Markus!” A breathless voice gasps, interrupting them. He looks around the young child to see Connor, panting like he’s a human who’s just dashed up twelve flights of stairs, in his doorway, hair disheveled and eyes blown wide. “I, I, please --”</p><p>Staring straight into Connor’s eyes, he says, “I wasn’t aware that he was.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Connor goes white as a sheet.</p><p>“Come on in and sit down, Connor.” He turns back to the spitting-mad little girl, breath taken out of her sails for the moment by his admission. “Please,” he invites, “tell me more.”</p><p>Connor, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, slinks into the room and gingerly takes the seat next to the girl.</p><p>“Well, sir," she starts up again, and does she have a name? "Connor here’s my dad, yeah? He picked me up off the streets and fixed me up right, and he’s been takin’ real good care of me. I don’t want no one else as my dad and Connor is a gosh-darned good parent. Connor wants to keep me as his family and I wanna keep him and Gramps as my family.”</p><p>Markus nods along, trying his best to act like Hank being called "Gramps" isn't the most adorable thing he's heard in ages. “That doesn’t sound like a problem to me -- it sounds like the opposite of one, really. I should be congratulating you guys for finding a family in each other.”</p><p>The girl -- does she have a name? -- shoots a glare at Connor. “See? He don’t think nothin’ of me keepin’ you.”</p><p>Connor gulps visibly, shrinking back into his seat a bit.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>She turns back to face him. “Connor don’t think he should be my dad ‘cause he said I’d be in too much danger if I stayed with him.”</p><p>“I --” Connor protests, weakly, not looking anywhere and rubbing at his shoulder.</p><p>“When we came up into New Jericho, Markus, sir, a mean ol’ hag walked up to him right in front a’everybody and shoved him and called him a threat!”</p><p>Markus’ thirium pump regulator blips. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“I <em>mean</em> some mean ol’ hag decided to pick on my dad in broad daylight right out there in th’ foy-yay of th’ bastion a’the android civil rights movement like she wasn’t sworn to uphold yer rules of inclusivity and non-judgementedness!”</p><p>“It wasn’t that bad…” Connor mumbles.</p><p>Markus stares at him.</p><p>“And nobody thought t’tell her off! When I suggested he go report her fer violatin’ the rules and harassin’ my dad, he just said he wasn’t worth it!”</p><p>“I --” Connor’s lips press into a thin line. “...I was only planning to be here for a few minutes, it...didn’t seem worth the effort.”</p><p>“You said specifically that <em>you</em> weren’t worth the effort, then mumbled under yer breath about nobody in their right minds ‘round here takin’ you seriously.”</p><p>Markus takes a moment to look -- really <em>look</em> at Connor, at the pale skin and fine tremors wracking his body, the clenched jaw and the eyes that won’t look at anything.</p><p>“This isn’t the only time something like this has happened, is it,” he surmises. “If Connor doesn’t think keeping you with him is safe, he must have experienced this several times and thinks the people he’s being targeted by will also target you.”</p><p>She stands up a little straighter. "And that's what I'm here t'protest, sir."</p><p>“You’re right,” he nods. “This shouldn’t be happening. New Jericho should be a safe haven for all androids, Connor included. Connor -- and you -- have just as much a right to any of our resources as anyone else does.”</p><p>The RK800’s shoulder twitches again.</p><p>A thought occurs to Markus. “How’s the arm treating you, Connor?”</p><p>Connor doesn’t respond. The girls peers over at him, curiously.</p><p>“You came over to New Jericho to get a replacement arm a few months ago. How has it been working for you?”</p><p>“It works,” he replies, stiff.</p><p>“Is it comfortable to use? Does it clash with your system at all?” If Markus knows anything, it’s the hell of running on just-barely-compatible biocomponents.</p><p>“It works.”</p><p>“He don’t do two-handed coin tricks anymore since he got that arm, says gramps,” she chimes in.</p><p>“It <em>works</em>, okay?” He shrinks in on himself even <em>more</em>, if possible. “It -- it’s <em>fine</em>.”</p><p>“Is it?” He prods. “Because I distinctly remember your doctors being brusque with you and treating you pretty roughly. And accidentally blowing up at you myself for something that wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“You apologized almost immediately after.”</p><p>“You weren't there for that -- I messaged you five minutes after the fact. You didn't even stick around to see if the biocomponent was compatible. Is it?”</p><p>Past Markus assumed that Connor wouldn't be willing to run around with an incompatible biocomponent -- that he felt free to walk into New Jericho's clinics anytime and request another one, even if he preferred living with the former lieutenant. Present Markus makes no such unfounded leaps in logic.</p><p>“It…” Connor trails off, tone as tense as his form. “No. Okay? It wasn’t compatible.”</p><p>“<em>Dad</em>!” The girl chastises, gasping at him with wide eyes.</p><p>“But I -- I fixed that! I rewrote some code and it works now. It’s..." he tries to smile reassuringly and fails miserably. "It’s not worth worrying about. I'm fine.”</p><p>Okay, Markus is admittedly intrigued at that point, but Connor somehow being able to write coding to get his body to just…<em>accept</em> incompatible biocomponents isn’t the most pressing issue here. The fact that he felt the need to go to such lengths at <em>all</em> instead of just coming back to request a new arm is.</p><p>"And you didn't come back here to request a new arm when you found out the one we gave you was incompatible because...?"</p><p>"Yeah, dad, why din't you?"</p><p>"I mean...I'd rather have two arms than just one."</p><p>Markus can tell he's <em>trying</em> for a joke, but it doesn't land as one. At all. Instead, it lodges itself in his throat and wedges his eyes open to a horrible suspicion.</p><p>“Connor, how did you lose the arm initially?”</p><p>“It wasn’t an accident like you've been sayin', <em>was</em> it, dad?" She squints her keen eyes at her guardian. Markus is liking this little girl more and more. Not that he could ever really <em>dislike</em> someone raised by Connor, but he's only known her for...fifteen-odd minutes, and he can already tell she's more trustworthy than half the androids in the entire New Jericho complex.</p><p>Especially since this is the first time he's hearing about all this discrimination against Connor. Out of the mouths of babes, indeed.</p><p>Connor doesn't respond. The LED on his temple circles a steady yellow.</p><p>"Were you attacked?"</p><p>He visibly flinches at the accusation, but doesn't protest it.</p><p>The girl's face -- she <em>must</em> have a name he can use to refer to her -- drops, softening, and she leans back off his desk. "Dad...listen to me: that ain't right. It ain't right fer people to just...hate you 'cause of what you did. You apologized and you ain't doin' those things the mean, non-Gramps humans made you do anymore...I don't know much about it, but forgiveness don't seem like it'd be all sunshine and rainbows, but...there's gotta be a diff'rence between those people y'mighta hurt not forgivin' you and them hurtin' you <em>back</em>."</p><p>Markus opens his mouth to agree with her assessment, but he’s interrupted by Connor turning to look at the girl, the child he’s spent months with, repairing and nurturing her back to full health, saving her from becoming just another nameless casualty of the revolution.</p><p>Connor looks at her with the world’s softest, most open expression; he's a proud parent watching their kid accomplish something, looking for all the world like his little one's ended world hunger and stopped all wars and cured all disease in one fell swoop. It's the most expressive Markus has ever seen his face, tension lines all dissolved in a way he didn't know was even possible and eyes lit up with a fiery, protective passion, dedicating to making sure she gets the life she needs and childhood she deserves and more, even if it comes at a personal expense.</p><p>"It isn't right," he admits quietly. "It's...not. But it's not something to worry anyone about, either."</p><p>"'Course it is!" She scowls at him, in a desperate sort of way. "Yer gettin' hurt fer no good reason! You don't deserve to be treated like yer someone you ain't, like yer guilty instead'a innocent!"</p><p>He shrugs, and Markus can tell he's not quite convinced. "It...it's really not that bad. It's...not like it interrupts my day, not like I live afraid for my life or anything. I...I can handle it. It just...happens, sometimes. The arm...was an outlier. Nothing's even remotely come close to it before or since."</p><p>He tries smiling again. It doesn't work. "It's definitely not bad enough to get someone like you involved, Markus."</p><p>"<em>Getting involved</em> with discrimination and unfair treatment on behalf of androids is my job," Markus says before he can stop himself, baffled.</p><p>"Getting the fundamental injustices of society fixed on behalf of androids is your job," Connor corrects.</p><p>"Well, if android society is developing some sort of fundamental injustice, I think it's under my job description to nip it in the bud."</p><p>"You shouldn't be distracted from doing things that affect all of us in favor of making a lot of people angry over one small thing."</p><p>Markus blinks. It takes him a moment to formulate a response.</p><p>"Firstly, no one has any right to get angry at being asked to treat others fairly. I won't force anyone into being your friend, but you deserve to be treated with the same respect as any android; she's right when she says they're being hypocritical when they expect to be treated fairly and can't give you the same. Secondly, it's not...Connor, it <em>starts</em> with this just being a "you" problem. How long until they decide that shoving you and cursing at you isn't enough? How long until people see the way you're treated, get used to it, and decide to make more people miserable? Decide that <em>more</em> people are exempt from deserving respect -- deserving fair treatment, deserving to be acknowledged as another sentient being with a life and mind and feelings and basic dignity? It <em>starts</em> with you, Connor, it doesn't <em>stop</em> with you."</p><p>The YK500 is nodding along with him energetically, her whole body bouncing with the movement.</p><p>"And besides, it's directly inhibiting your ability to live your life, pursue your happiness. <em>That</em> isn't small. This isn't --" Markus remembers to catch himself before he says anything <em>too</em> harsh with the present company -- "life isn't a suffering contest where only those dealt the <em>worst</em> hands deserve help." And, all things considered, even if it <em>were</em>, Markus would put Connor's lot in life down there with the worst of the worst.</p><p>"And I'm your <em>friend</em>, Connor," Markus concludes. "Or, well, I'd like to be." More, he adds silently, then mentally kicks himself for it -- not the place <em>or</em> time, and <em>definitely</em> not when his kid is <em>right there</em>, you idiot.</p><p>Connor, previously curled in on himself, snaps to attention at that, then quickly deflates back into his curled position.</p><p>"I honestly thought you didn't come to New Jericho because you were busy trying to integrate with human society, but you don't feel safe here, do you?" If it's not safe for him to walk around, it's definitely not safe enough to trust them to give him the care he needs or trust them to take good care of his daughter.</p><p>Connor doesn't respond. He doesn't really need to.</p><p>"How'd you get up here, dad?" The YK500 asks after a moment. "I pulled up the most direct path from the map, but it isn't like y'gave me a huge lead."</p><p>"...I walked to the emergency stairwell." If they started from around the entrance and split in the middle of the foyer, the nearest staircase would have been a five-minute walk. "I don't-- they were already-- I was worried that someone would see me running after you and make the wrong conclusions."</p><p>"Why did y'want me here anyway?" She snorts, unimpressed. "I don't wanna be in a place where I can't play tag with you without someone thinkin' you're bein' evil, frankly."</p><p>"I think people are always going to be concerned when they see a grown man they don't know chasing around a young girl," says Markus carefully. "But unless you were crying and asking people to help you escape being caught by a stranger, most people would believe that he's someone you know and you're getting along just fine with overall."</p><p>"Unless that man's Connor."</p><p>Markus nods. "Unless that man's Connor."</p><p>"And that just ain't fair."</p><p>"No, it isn't."</p><p>Markus and the girl (<em>ask for a name before I make that a sub-objective under "Befriend Connor and His Family”, y'know, that objective you pretend you don't have,</em> he practically hears his HUD threaten) nod at each other in mutual agreement, Markus' opinion of her skyrocketing even higher than it was already. They shift their focus, and Connor's back to curling up in his seat, not looking at anything.</p><p>He clears his throat -- or, imitates the action, anyway. “I’m curious. Why <em>do</em> you want us to take her, Connor? It’s obvious that New Jericho hasn’t been entirely trustworthy.”</p><p>“Yeah, dad?”</p><p>He shifts. "I...don't have the time or resources to take care of her -- I can't homeschool her and, well, human school is out of the question. And..." his lips form a hard line again. "I couldn't...there's no way..." he trails off, fingers working against themselves, obviously frustrated. "I..."</p><p>And Markus waits as Connor pauses, finding the correct words to explain what was going on in that <strike>cute, smart</strike> head of his.</p><p>Connor eventually forcibly relaxes his posture, uncurling into his seat. "I was afraid of what people would do -- people <em>will</em> do if they find out she's associated with me. One of the daycare workers has already said to my face that I...I shouldn't--shouldn't be let anywhere near a YK or anyone who isn't equipped with a firearm, much less ever dream of being allowed to take care of one."</p><p>An optional sub-objective under <em>“Befriend Connor and His Family”</em>, labelled <em>“Punch In the Face of the Ignorant Asshat Who Said That”</em>, pops up in his HUD. He entertains it for a full one and a half seconds before balefully dismissing it.</p><p>"And I'm --" a deep breath in and a deep breath out, then another soft look at his daughter. "You're a great kid. You're so energetic and bright and friendly and you'd do <em>so well</em> with an environment that can nourish that, and that's just not staying with me. I couldn't --" he turns to Markus, pleading. "Markus, I <em>can't</em> just isolate her from the rest of androidkind, from her <em>people</em> and her <em>culture</em>. That's not fair to her. I don't deserve the treatment I get? Fine, but she shouldn't have to deal with it -- it's something she deserves even <em>less</em> than I do. It's -- I'm selfish for wanting to keep her. New Jericho is just...the better place for her to be."</p><p>Markus patiently waits for Connor to say everything on his mind. His kid is awfully quiet too, though she’s waiting with an adorably scrunched-up "can you believe a <em>word</em> this guy is saying?!" expression.</p><p>"And that's why <em>I'm</em> here, Mr. Markus, sir. I don't have to be isolated from you folks here at New Jericho if you just do your job and make this place the place it's s'posed to be so dad can be my dad!"</p><p>Connor's brown doe eyes go mournful in that very specific way that has Markus' chest weighed down with a deep ennui, and Markus responds before he can keel over from the sheer concentrated sadness in Connor's gaze.</p><p>"You're absolutely right," he affirms, nodding at the young lady who's still standing on his chair. "This shouldn't be happening, and I'll do everything in my power to stop Connor from being treated so badly. It <em>is</em> hypocritical of New Jericho to claim it's a free and open and accepting space for all androids regardless of what they did under human command and then turn around to exclude Connor, someone who needs the support of his community just as much as anyone else does, and it's even worse that he's afraid to raise you because those immature and unwanted attitudes could negatively affect your life. I swear I'll make New Jericho a safe place for both of you -- I'll personally make sure of it. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."</p><p>She nods back at him, arms uncrossing. "Yer welcome, Mr. Markus sir. Does this mean my dad can be my dad now? And I don't gotta stay here if I don't wanna, right?"</p><p>"Absolutely," he confirms, giving her a wide smile. Before she flops back in her seat, sitting for the first time since the visit started, he leans in close in a jokingly-conspiratorially way, one hand coming up to cover his mouth from Connor's direction, and casts around under his desk for one of his tablets with the other one.</p><p>She catches on, cupping a hand to her ear.</p><p>"But you know what?" He stage-whispers. "I think he's already your dad, and there's nothing any pieces of paperwork from us can change that." Markus glances over at Connor, then winks. "He might need some convincing, though."</p><p>His spare hand hits the glass of a tablet and he leans back, uncloaking it to activate it and pull up a relevant document he's had on standby for a while. Her face glows with triumph and she sits back in her seat.</p><p>"Y'hear that, Dad?" She takes Connor's stunned hand in hers. "You're my dad now!"</p><p>Connor blinks, lips lifting up in a trembling smile. "I...I guess that means I am." His hand wraps tighter around hers.</p><p>Markus withdraws the tablet, unable to help a wide smile splitting across his face at the delicate moment. Connor expressed more, <em>so</em> much more in this past half-hour than Markus has seen him show in the past months of knowing him -- the RK800 is so much more <em>alive</em> with who is (absolutely, undoubtedly) his little girl around. A warmth in both parts of his heart -- pump and regular -- blooms soft and sweet at the familial bond before him, and he lets the spellbinding moment between father and daughter linger. Eventually, though, Markus knows it'll be much sweeter with one final touch.</p><p>Placing the tablet on the desk in front of him, he clears his throat softly to get their attention. Connor startles, snapping his gaze over to Markus', but the YK500 takes it in stride.</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"I know I just said you guys don't need any paperwork, but," he hedges, moving the tablet closer to Connor, "I think these specifically would really help."</p><p>Connor's brown eyes widen comically as he takes in the title on the top of the page. To the human eye, there's no delay, but to the android one, Connor takes his time processing the information.</p><p>"Adoption forms?" He whispers, picking up the tablet gingerly, like it could disappear if he presses too hard on it. The girl next to him lets out a whoop of excitement.</p><p>"Only if you'd like them, of course," he reassures, smiling even wider. "I've had these on standby since you told me you were stopping by. I had a feeling you'd be needing them."</p><p>The girl, following her dad's lead, gazes upon the tablet with wonder, leaning from her seat over her dad's shoulder.</p><p>They may be able to fill out these things instantaneously, and Markus may have been able to electronically forward him the forms without an intermediary, but he's found there's a certain art to timing and expressions of self that are best performed in the physical, rather than digital, realm. (North just snorts and calls him dramatic, but drama is a longstanding and highly-respected art form, so the joke's on her.) Her dark green eyes trace the lines of official documentation, and she shrinks back after a moment, smile dropping.</p><p>"What's wrong?" rA9 help him if he pulled up the wrong document in front of his crush and his kid, <em>especially</em> after being so artful -- okay, <em>extra</em> -- about it, he might just combust on the spot.</p><p>"I need a name to fill these out."</p><p>Markus blinks.</p><p>"She woke up without a registered name," Connor's mouth quirks downwards.</p><p>"When we figured out all my memories were corrupted well beyond retrieval 'r repair, Dad told me I could pick my own once I found somethin' I liked," she adds. Her lips quirk downwards too. <em>Runs in the family,</em> Markus thinks. "And well, I...haven't."</p><p>"We haven't been trying very hard, admittedly," Connor adds, moving to click off the tablet. "But..."</p><p>"I have an idea," Markus blurts out before he fully has an idea, because there's no way he's letting either of them leave his office sad if he can help it.</p><p>"You were planning on showing me the gaps in her programming you fixed with my coding, right?" Markus' processors overclock for a split second, scrambling to piece something together with the same frantic desperation he has at press conferences when some idiot reporter decides it'll be fun to give him a short-circuit and wildly derails the script.</p><p>Connor nods. "That's what...I was planning to do before..."</p><p>Abruptly, all the wind is taken out of Markus' sails. "If we interface, maybe I'll get some ideas for her name that I can suggest for your approval," he finishes lamely.</p><p>Connor and the young girl glance at each other curiously.</p><p>"I don't mean to impose or force you into anything, of course," Markus rushes to reassure them. "And like I said, the coding isn't--it's not something I'm worried or anything about."</p><p>It really isn't -- he had mixed feelings about the request initially, but the more Connor described the process, the more they settled into a more stable state of acceptance. Their coding may be analogous to a human's DNA, but this specific process was more like the blood transfusion equivalent of stitches than anything else. He does his best to learn as much as he can about the technicalities of androids, but some of it still escapes him. Hmm...if Markus and Connor were doctors and she was a patient, she'd be allergic to the brand of dissolvable stitches Connor normally uses, so he borrows some off of Markus' station that she isn't allergic to and he can use to close up her wounds. Not a perfect analogy by any means, but it gets the basic idea across.</p><p>In any case, it was honestly a rather impersonal process despite the intimate-seeming beginnings, and like a pair of doctors who've worked together for a long time, Markus trusts that Connor knows what's he doing and doesn't feel the need to follow up.</p><p>Connor's been strangely insistent about it, though, and Markus doubts it could hurt anything to try.</p><p>"...I think I'd need to be there to show you exactly what I did," Connor hedges. "Can I...are three-way interfaces possible?"</p><p>She looks at him. "I got two hands, don't I?"</p><p>"Yes," Markus chuckles, "and they're perfectly safe."</p><p>Connor places the tablet back on the desk in front of Markus, then uncloaks his right hand and takes her left hand in his. She securely twines their fingers together before uncloaking both her hands and holding up her right for him to take.</p><p>He reaches for it and waits for her to send out the interface requests, then accepts.</p><p>With regular interfacing, two androids are connected via a stream of data flowing between them, person A to person B and vice versa. Normally, adding more androids simply increases the number of data streams (e.g. a three-way interface between person A, B, and C would go something like person A &lt;-&gt; person B, person B &lt;-&gt; person C, person C &lt;-&gt; person A), but Connor...interfacing with him, even through another android as a proxy, is...different.</p><p>As soon as the connection between himself and the young girl establishes itself, Connor is <em>there</em> -- or, well, Connor <em>is</em>. Connor <em>is</em> the connection, is inside and outside and above and below and to the left and to the right of it, is the medium the connection flows through and is what’s flowing through the connection, and it’s...strange. If androids are boats and interfaces happen when they drop anchor and tether lines between themselves, then Connor is the sea on which they travel, the air that gusts through their sails, and the slack of the ropes keeping them connected. Markus’ mind is anchored to his body and her mind is anchored to her body and the stream allows them to exchange memories and experiences as if they were each other, but they never <em>become</em> each other, never leave their anchored spots in their bodies.</p><p>Mentally blinking, Markus does his best to orient himself properly in the mental-digital scape, even as Connor’s presence is taking their connection and guiding him through it, delving into his daughter’s mind to open it up and show him the places where Connor fixed her using his stitches, joinery highlighted by Connor’s hand.</p><p>He gets his bearings as the young android sends out an amused ping of <em>I told you I wasn’t the only one who finds you weird to interface with, Dad, see?</em>, and he analyzes the code Connor’s digital presence lays out in front of him. A warm feeling settles through his thirium lines -- the fixes Connor applied to the young android’s mind are minimal, a few lines here and there of his base code to bridge across gaps and fill in holes, just like he was expecting. Just by looking, he can tell how delicately and carefully Connor pieced his daughter's mind together, how much concern filled his every move in her coding -- especially when Connor didn't expect to be able to keep her.</p><p>Markus feels the lips on his physical body twitch upwards. As he skims across the coding again, a thought begins forming in the back of his mind.</p><p><em>Are you done yet?</em> Like most young children, this one isn't exactly inclined to sitting still for a long time normally -- much less with such invasive interfacing -- and he can feel her impatience tickle beneath his skin.</p><p>He feels Connor's sheepishness in the not-air around them, the oncoming <em>no, there's more I need to show him, I'm sorry,</em> and he does the digital equivalent of clearing his throat to draw attention to himself.</p><p><em>I've seen everything I need to,</em> he pings both of them, starting to withdraw from her, beginning to shut down their connection.</p><p>Connor catches him, wraps a digital hand around his, and pings him with a private <em>are you sure?</em>.</p><p>And Markus...stops, because wait, Connor can <em>do</em> that? Just…<em>stop</em> people from leaving an interface? What the <em>f--</em></p><p><em>FINALLY!</em> and the YK500 starts withdrawing on her own, cutting their ties and trying to shove Connor away, which has about the same effect as trying to shove away the air or the ocean, but Markus can tell that Connor gets the memo loud and clear.</p><p>Her exclamation snaps him out of it -- what exactly Connor can do in an interface is a question for another time. <em>I'm sure. You did a great job. Thanks for taking such good care of her, especially when you weren't expecting anything back.</em></p><p>Connor relents, and as soon as he does, the interface ends without any prompts or confirmations or the android equivalent of a <em>remember to use the "eject disk safely" button!</em> warning.</p><p>Markus blinks back to reality, then mentally runs his fingers through his not-mindscape for a few ticks. That was abrupt, even by android standards, but everything was back in its place like they'd broken off the interface normally.</p><p>A beat.</p><p>"Scout."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>Markus' grin twitches and he leans back in his chair. "You strike me as a Scout."</p><p>"Scout." Connor's face relaxes, tasting the name on his lips and across his vocal unit. "Scout."</p><p>"Scout," the young girl ponders, bobbing her head. "Huh."</p><p>Another beat.</p><p>Markus shrugs, suddenly feeling apprehensive. "It's just a suggestion. You don't have to take the name if you don't like it."</p><p>She takes a moment to consider, weighing everything, lips pursing and face scrunching up. In his periphery, Connor kept his face carefully static -- supportive but not expectant, with no obvious leaning one way or the other, ready to accept and be happy with any decision she makes.</p><p>Then, she beams. "I like it, Mr. Markus! I'm Scout now!"</p><p>Connor gives his daughter another soft, thirium-pump-and-regulator (can he just say "heart"?)-warming look with soulful brown eyes, and smiles.</p><p>Markus grins at the pair, relaxing slightly as his HUD gleefully files away the information and stops threatening him with giving him a sub-objective. "Glad I could help. Welcome to having a name, Scout!"</p><p>"Thank you, Mr. Markus." She nods, crossing her arms to obtain an "official" air. "I guess you arn't half as bad as I thought you were after all."</p><p>Markus snorts at the quip, light. "And I guess you aren't half as allergic to sitting down as I thought you were," he teases.</p><p>She scowls, but the corner of her lips poke up. "I just had a point to make that I knew I was right about, Mr. Markus, sir, and I was willin' to make use a'my environment to make you listen!"</p><p>"Of course! How could I ever think otherwise?"</p><p>They bicker for a moment, throwing quick-witted remarks back and forth at each other, and Markus feels that objective he pretends he doesn't have -- <em>Befriend Connor and His Family</em> -- inch ever closer to completion.</p><p>
  <strong>CONNOR: ^</strong><br/>
<strong>SCOUT: ^^^ WARM</strong>
</p><p>As Scout <em>hmphs</em> dramatically, closing her eyes and turning up her button nose at him, peeking from under her lashes to look at Connor and giggle slightly, Markus checks his internal clock. It's been forty-three minutes and around twelve seconds since he opened his main office doors for office hours, and the time really has flown by in a whirl.</p><p>He opens his mouth to respond, then stops, realizing something (because androids can hold so many different things in their minds simultaneously and have so many different levels of attention they can give to things, they don't <em>realize</em> things the way a human would, per se, but the sensation of a mental alarm clock going off or suddenly encountering a previously-minimized mental window is probably comparable enough to the experience in spirit if not quite literally) -- he only has sixty minutes to hold office hours today, instead of his regular ninety-five.</p><p>A stone of regret sinks into his spinal cord.</p><p>
  <em>Be the responsible adult and start closing this little rendezvous out.</em>
</p><p><em>I don't want to,</em> he fires back.</p><p><em>You have a meeting twenty minutes after your office hours close,</em> his schedule reminds him.</p><p><em>Fine,</em> he groans internally.</p><p>Slipping back into responsible leader mode, Markus straightens himself out. "Now that <em>that's</em> all settled," he shoots Scout a glance that sends her into another fit of giggling, "I think we should get the paperwork out of the way."</p><p>"Oh," Connor flinches minutely when Markus picks up the tablet to hand it to him. "Of course. You're probably on a schedule." His hand uncloaks, and a single tap is all it takes to have the forms filled out and submitted for approval.</p><p>Now that Markus has the right frame of reference, it's easy to see how much Connor is favoring his right hand for all his interactions with electronics when Markus knows for a fact he became ambidextrous after deviancy. Curious, he sketches out some routing mentally.</p><p>[RK200 "Markus" -&gt; YK500 "Scout"] How bad is your dad's arm?</p><p>Internal clock -- T-38 minutes until the meeting. Time to walk down to New Jericho's repair station with company -- 10 minutes. Average time spent removing and reinstalling arm biocomponents -- 15 minutes. Time between repair station and meeting room -- 5 minutes.</p><p>[YK500 "Scout" -&gt; RK200 "Markus"] Pretty bad, I'd reckon -- he can't even run his calibration exercises like he oughta be able to.<br/>
[YK500 "Scout" -&gt; RK200 "Markus"] He looks real sad at his coin sometimes and I watch him try to flick it between his hands -- as far as I've seen, it ain't workin' at all and he just keeps droppin' it and lookin' worse than before.</p><p>Markus withdraws the tablet and places it under his desk.</p><p>[RK200 "Markus" -&gt; YK500 "Scout"] Wanna help me bully him into getting a new one?</p><p>He can make this work.</p><p>[YK500 "Scout" -&gt; RK200 "Markus"] Absolutely, sir!</p><p>"While you're here," Markus stares at Connor, knowing that Connor knows he was <strike>checking out</strike> assessing his incompatible arm, "why don't you see about getting that arm replaced again?" Connor's sharp gaze snaps to him.</p><p>"Yeah, Dad," Scout focuses her emerald eyes on him, fluttering her eyelashes, lip upturned in the barest trace of a pout, "why not?"</p><p>Markus has seen the footage of Connor ruthlessly interrogating the HK400; Markus stared into that resigned-yet-stalwart gaze when Connor had put his life in his hands, offering himself up for judgement; Markus was there to watch as Connor marched off with a stony face to CyberLife Tower and his (nearly-certain, but thankfully-not) death. Never once in his entire life has Markus seen Connor <em>squirm</em> like he does now, frantically trying to withstand the combined forces of Markus and his daughter.</p><p>"Um, you're on a schedule today, right, Markus?" Connor laughs nervously, looking away.</p><p>"I have just enough time to walk you two down to the repair station and put in a few words with the techs on duty," Markus stands up, quirking a brow.</p><p>"Scout, surely you've had enough of someone messing around with your insides for--"</p><p>"But I haven't seen all the fancy tools I'm sure they got here, Dad!" She chirps, hopping off her seat. "I wanna go show me off to them anyway -- show 'em all just how much good you could do for New Jericho and that you ain't a danger to us small folk."</p><p>"I mean, I don't--" Scout takes his good hand and yanks it with a force strong enough to lift Connor from his seat. He yelps. "-- I don't want to be a drain on resources or time or anything -- my body's weird about accepting biocomponents-- I'm fine, really, I--"</p><p>Markus shrugs on his suit jacket. "Actually, we've recently recovered what amounts to six bodies' worth of biocomponents from the CyberLife Tower, and last I checked, that included their arms."</p><p>"I seen the way you look at that coin a'yers. It, frankly, ain't a look of folk who're right as rain." From the way Connor reacts, Markus knows Scout isn't supposed to know about that. "Take a load off my shoulders and let's go get you a new one, uh-huh?"</p><p>With one final tug, Connor is coaxed up from his seat and they're off, sweeping through the halls of New Jericho, Markus and Scout herding the RK800 down to the repair center to fix him up properly this time.</p><p> </p><p>
  
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>art by the lovely <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildeAmasoj">Val</a>!</p><p>Come visit me in the <a href="https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm">New ERA discord server</a>! Tell 'em Demi sent you :&gt;</p><p>also for the valid fam discord server!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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